Contemporary Scholarship in the Humanities is Largely Buffoonish

The View from My Room in Edinburgh

When I consider how many things in my life have changed over the last forty-six years, I'm glad at least one is exactly the same.

Count on It

USA Today: Overdue backlash mustn't turn into sexual McCarthyism

The Coracle Foundation judges the following statement, offered by Glenn Reynolds of the University of Tennessee School of Law, to be prescient:

Not much change for powerful figures, but ordinary men will have to sit through HR presentations on why you can’t compliment someone’s sweater.

This Isn't Possible. If It Were, Then I've Plagiarized Several Sermons.

Ivanka Trump plagiarizes one of her own speeches in India https://t.co/nqrPl8R6cX pic.twitter.com/C5Ivw2fEbb

— Newsweek (@Newsweek) November 30, 2017

But, This Would Mean That Bureaucrats Lie. How Can That Be?

D.C. Miracle Turnaround School Exposed as a Fraud

Ballou teachers reported students with woefully inadequate academic skills. Only 9 percent of Ballou students passed D.C.'s standardized test for English last year, and none passed the standardized math test.

Well, at least we still have the media to represent both truth and moral fortitude.

This is Too Logical Not to Break Someone's Narrative

If you can't accept the Pence Rule at work, can we at least agree on the Pants Rule?

Male bosses should keep their pants on for the entirety of business meetings with colleagues.

As I've mentioned before, I was ruefully amused by my ordained colleagues who reacted so strongly to the current vice-president's sensible rules for how to comport oneself with female subordinates, especially in the presence of alcohol.  For all of their Episcopal howling, we have the same rules as part of our "safe church" practices.

The Feast Of St. Andrew

While Andrew is mentioned along with the Twelve, usually in conjunction with his brother, Simon Peter, he appears with particularity three times within the Gospel of John. When the curious Greeks wish to speak with Jesus, they first approach Philip, who then approaches Andrew, and the two of them then mediate with Jesus (John 12:20-22) about the meeting.  Before Jesus feeds the five thousand, it is Andrew who brings forward the "lad with five barley loaves and two fish." (John 6:8f).  Also, Andrew is the brother to first meet Jesus and the one to take that news, and the holy invitation, to Simon Peter (John 1:35-42).  It is Andrew who first proclaims, "We have found the Messiah".

Thematically, on each occasion when he is mentioned as an individual, it is because he is instrumental in bringing others to meet the Savior.  This has long been regarded as the specific ministry of Andrew, something recognized in the Episcopal Church through the Fellowship of Saint Andrew, an organization devoted to encouraging personal evangelism and inviting one's friends and colleagues to a knowledge of the Gospel.

Several centuries after the death of Andrew, some of his relics were brought to Scotland by a missionary named Rule, to what is now known as St. Andrew's, popularly recognized as the site of world-famous golf course and university. Hence, Andrew becomes strongly associated with that northern jewel of the British Isles. [Having a Scottish mother, I had to say that.]

According to pious legend, Andrew was crucified on an X-shaped cross, as represented on the design of the official flag of Scotland.

The Collect of St. Andrew:

Almighty God, who gave such grace to your apostle Andrew that he readily obeyed the call of your Son Jesus Christ, and brought his brother with him: Give us, who are called by your Holy Word, grace to follow him without delay, and to bring those near to us into his gracious presence; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

For those interested, the flag of the United Kingdom, the "Union Jack", is a combination of the crosses of St. Andrew [white x-shaped cross on a blue field], St. George, the patron of England [red cross on a white field], and that of St. Patrick, the patron of Ireland [red x-shaped cross on a white field].

Sorry, Wales and St. David. You got left out.

SCOTLAND THE BRAVE ~ PIPES & DRUMS ~ ( HD )

Tales of the Post-Christian Age

Archdiocese of Washington files lawsuit against WMATA after Christmas ad rejected

You know, it seems a bit mild:

It's hardly "promoting" a religion, except to mentally ill, Christo-phobic bureaucrats.

Get Used to Hearing This Now

"Him?  Oh, everyone knew."

This Is Why We Are in the World, But Not of the World

Charles Manson, Norman Mailer, and our inauthentic, but hip, society

We shouldn’t conform ourselves to society. There’s something wrong with it.

This is Judged to be Accurate by The Coracle Foundation

Baby Boomers: "The Church needs to listen to the young people!"

Young people: "We want tradition, chant, incense, orthodox preaching, & sound doctrine."

Boomers: "You hear that!? They want guitar masses!"

— ♱ (@0canom) November 28, 2017

Because We Have to Pay the Government for Our Civil Rights? Since When?

If churches want to take a stand on candidates and claim their right to free speech, let them pay taxes #NYTLetters https://t.co/JRrNT1fWPJ

— NYT Opinion (@nytopinion) November 28, 2017

Honestly, when it comes to rationally regarding the role of churches in the United States, some people are on the level of livestock.  Excuse me, I have to arrange my poll tax.

In Today's Adventures in Doctoral Abstracts

I have absolutely no idea what this sentence means.

Any Trained Philosopher Has Been Asking These Same Questions

Heck, even untrained philosophers.

A rational person cannot possibly believe all eight of these points simultaneously. He must choose. He may say that men are inherently dangerous, therefore they shouldn't be in the women's room and women should probably carry guns. He may say that men can be women so there's no reason to fear men or treat them any differently. He may say that law enforcement officers are part of a conspiracy to exterminate the black population therefore we should all grab machine guns, form militias, and violently overthrow the state. He may say that police are mostly very trustworthy and dutiful in their jobs, therefore we have no reason to buy our own guns and protect ourselves. He may find a combination of two, maybe three, of these points and put them forward as fact. Or, better yet, he may reject them all and choose instead to be right. What he cannot do, if he wants to be taken seriously, is argue in favor of all of them.

An Important Royal Note

I've always had respect for Prince Harry as he's a proper soldier, known both for repeatedly risking his life in Afghanistan and also for partying like an animal in Las Vegas.  Sorry, bluenoses, but the adrenaline from repeatedly surviving will result in an overzealous celebration of life once one is again safe.  Which reminds me, I owe Charley's Bar in Somers Point, New Jersey for some glassware that was inadvertently smashed back in 1975.

Anyway, his wife-to-be will never be Princess Whatever Her Name Is, regardless of what the millennials who slept through history class who work as researchers for NBC News seem to think.  She may never bear the title of "Her Royal Highness", either.  That's just the way it goes, as Harry isn't first in line for the throne.  She will, however, be the Duchess of...Earl or something, whatever Harry's lesser title may be.  Not bad for a D-list TV actress who, at 36, is about to "age out" of the good acting roles.

Interesting Update:  The Crown has declared the Duchess of Earl-to-Be a "Protestant".  She is to be baptized and confirmed in the Church of England before the wedding so that she and the duke may be married in Westminster St. George's chapel at Windsor.

Given his recent comments, we're assuming the Archbishop of Canterbury, who I am told is also Grand Knight of Snobbery and Lord of the Privy (I don't recognize these titles, but this isn't really my specialty given I'm an American and all), will have her assure him that she is not a supporter of the current occupant of the White House.

Tales of the Post-Christian Age

A chart of the number and amounts of settlements given to those harassed or otherwise man-handled by members of Congress over the last twenty years.  Yes, it's tax money.

By the way, what was going on in 2007?

A Post-Christian Observation

"Look back to the two great crimes of our century—nazism and communism—and you will see what happens when a substitute religion bursts upon the world, untempered by belief in God's judgment. Never before has such destruction, or such contempt for human life, visited our planet" - Roger Scruton

As Noted in the Article, and as Realized Through Personal Experience, One is Treated Better by the Airline Staff

Stop dressing like a slob when you're traveling

This Sentence Could Have Ended with the Word "Baffled". Or "Christians".

Archbishop of Canterbury baffled by Christians who back Trump

His Grace is the historic defender of the monarchy, so the exercise of democracy would, in his words, be baffling to him.  Christians exercising the free will to do what he would not is pretty puzzling, too, I'll bet.

(No, hysterics, I'm not a Trump or Clinton defender, but I do like the freedom to make my own choices, regardless of the judgment of some tedious Pharisee who lives in a palace.)

Seriously, this is where he lives.  With servants.  Y'know, just like Jesus did.

Yes, I Work with Many of Them

THE WRATH OF THE DO‑GOODERS

The list of attacks goes on. But none of this should surprise us. There has always been a malicious, vengeful streak in sections of the compassionate new left. Consider how they have always boasted about ‘hating the Tories’, as if hatred is an emotion to be proud of. The far left always talk of ‘smashing’ or ‘fighting’ things, whether it be capitalism, racism or the system. The rhetoric of caring and combat paradoxically go hand-in-hand. As Albert Camus observed in his attack on Sartre in his 1951 L’Homme révolté, the more someone professes to care about humanity, the more they tend to dislike people as human beings.

Because This Was Keeping Me Up at Night

This top NYC chef won’t judge you for eating IKEA meatballs

You Mean, Besides Everything?

What Hollywood Gets Wrong About Jack Kerouac and the Beat Generation

Orangey and Frank Inn

I'm not sure where to begin with this, as it's a bit of a departure from the usual Friday fare.  Well, as my old-school editor used to say, "How about at the beginning?"  He was a real wit, wasn't he?

With the coming and going of the World Series, and the inevitable defeat of the Cleveland Indians, a number of baseball and baseball-themed movies were being shown on television.  The usual ones were there, such as "Bull Durham" [which is actually a good film], "Field of Dreams" [that guy, again], "A League of Their Own" [zzzzzzz], "The Natural" [not bad, although the protagonist should have died in the end], "Major League" [a terrible movie, but it's about the Indians so I have to like it or get thrown out of the Cleveland Club], etc.

There are two baseball films that never seem to make it to the schedule, though, and I suspect that's because they're old and in black-and-white and young people are micro-aggressed by the absence of color.  Both star Ray Milland, which may be another reason as he's hardly a recognized actor these days.

In the first, "It Happens Every Spring" [1949], Milland plays a college chemistry professor who is a baseball fanatic.  While mixing mysterious chemicals in his lab, a stray baseball flies through the window and smashes the beakers.  The resulting compound, which cannot be duplicated, repels wood.  Milland soaks a baseball glove in it, thus causing baseballs to flee from wooden bats, and uses it to become the greatest pitcher in the major leagues.  Naturally.  There's some drama with gamblers, gangsters, and kidnapping, of course, but it all resolves into a happy ending.

The second, which I argue is the greatest baseball movie ever made, concerns a wealthy owner of a hapless, Brooklyn team who, upon his death, bequeaths the team to his feline, a former alley cat and absolute terror of whom even guard dogs are afraid.  The cat is named Rhubarb, the slang term for a bench-clearing baseball brawl, and in the eponymous movie, Rhubarb is placed under the legal care of the team's publicist, again played by Ray Milland.  There's some drama with gamblers, gangsters, and kidnapping, of course, but it all resolves into a happy ending.  [Yeah, I said it twice.]

 

So, my wife and I watched it the other night on a streaming service, finding it perfectly enjoyable, not as painfully corny as one might expect, and with something for the whole family, grandchildren included, to enjoy.  It also caused us to reflect on one of our own cats, who was of the same coloration and so notoriously bi-polar as to be cantankerous one moment and companionable the next.  The neighborhood dogs were afraid of him and he used to go and eat the neighbor's cat food right off of their porch while their cat hid inside.  In fact, there was a time when I almost re-named him Rhubarb.

Rhubarb meets his team. Notice the young actor in center screen enjoying his first movie role.  He would live long and prosper.

This made me curious about the cat who played the title character as he was not only photogenic, but was in almost every scene either calmly sitting among the actors [!] or engaged in doing his own stunts, including racing across the Brooklyn Bridge. [Well, an artificial version of Brooklyn and Manhattan, but that's the movies.]  That's when I discovered the remarkable world of animal wranglers and their considerable contribution to the creation of fine cinema.

Rhubarb was portrayed by a cat named Orangey.  It was his debut role, but by no means his last, especially as he won a Patsy Award for the "Picture Animal Top Star of the Year, 1951".  [That's where the acronym "Patsy" is from.]  He was so strongly associated with his premier role in cinema that for many years he was listed in film credits as Rhubarb, rather than by his Christian  proper name.

Because of this initial success, and the fact that he could be, for a cat, rather patient with the demands of film and television production, he would appear in seminal films and TV series for the next seventeen years.  Orangey played Minerva, Eve Arden's cat on "Our Miss Brooks", the cat that terrifies and stalks the protagonist in "The Incredible Shrinking Man", Rose Marie's cat, Mr. Henderson, on "The Dick Van Dyke Show", and various others on "The Beverly Hillbillies", "Mission Impossible", and as the Catwoman's pet on "Batman".

Orangey, now famous enough in the industry to be billed by his Christian proper name, would even win a second Patsy Award for his performance in "Breakfast at Tiffany's".

All in all, it was an enviable career, and one that was enjoyed without the usual humiliation and misconduct that characterizes an actor's life in Hollywood.  However, it would not have been possible if Orangey had not been the discovery and ward of Frank Inn, Hollywood's greatest animal trainer.  His story, too, is one of accomplishment.

Inn with his best-known client

A Midwesterner from a quiet, Quaker family, Inn sought work in Hollywood, initially as a maintenance man for MGM.  On his way home from work one night, he was struck by a drunk driver and left for dead.  He was saved when a collection of medical students at the L.A. County Morgue realized the corpse was still warm.

It was a very long recovery, with Inn's mobility severely limited.  A friend gave him a dog named Jeep to stave off depression and Inn would train the dog to do what companion dogs and other animals now do for their stewards: Jeep would learn to fetch Inn his newspaper and his keys and open and close the icebox door.

Eventually, he returned to work and while cleaning the set of the movie that would eventually become "The Thin Man" with William Powell and Myrna Loy, he noticed the animal trainer having difficulty with the dog, named "Asta" in the film, whose scenes were of some importance to the plot.  When he showed the animal trainer what he could do with Jeep, he was hired as the trainer's assistant.  If the viewer has ever been amused by the antics of Asta or his "wife and kids" in The Thin Man series of movies, it is to Inn's credit

While originally in the employ of Rudd Weatherwax, the trained animal expert who introduced the cinematic world to "Lassie", Inn started his own business in the early 1950's with Orangey as his first, major client.  We've seen what happened with that fruitful union.  So successful was Inn with the Patsy-winning cat that he would spend the remainder of his life training a variety of animals for movies and television.

A partial list of only the most famous of Inn's clients would include not only Orangey in all of his appearances, but also Cleo, the basset hound who served as the narrator of TV's "The People's Choice". [As voiced by Ann Southern, I recall from childhood that Cleo got all of the good lines.  In fact, the show was almost cancelled during its first season until the writers hit on the idea of a dog narrator.  From that point forward it was a hit.]  Arnold the pig on "Green Acres" [another scene-stealer], Tramp the dog on "My Three Sons", the chimps on "Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp" [don't ask], and virtually all of Ellie May Clampett's critters on "The Beverly Hillbillies" [included in that collection was, you guessed it, Orangey].

Frank Inn's most successful client, however, was a stray dog of mixed heritage who became the star of a series of movies.  While his street name was Higgins, he is best known to fans of children's cinema as "Benji".  In all, Inn's clients won about 40 Patsy Awards.

Inn kept a vast property filled with a variety of animals, even those with no acting talent, and taught many young assistants how to, with affection, create stars from even the most discarded of pets.  After his death at the age of 86 in 2002, his daughter continues the business and still provides well-cared animal actors for movies and TV.

While Frank Inn is buried in Los Angeles' famous Forest Lawn Cemetery, there is also, on his rambling estate, a place filled with cenotaphs hosting the cremains of his famous clients.  Like many animal lovers, he could never quite let go of them.  Someday, I would hope to make a pilgrimage to the place of Orangey's final repose, if merely as an exercise in Franciscan respect for God's creatures, or for the fact that a simple movie still amuses me, even after several viewings.

My [New] Favorite Thanksgiving Recipe

As noted in yesterday's post, I'm not a big fan of turkey.  I don't mind it in a deli sandwich, in fact I used to enjoy one planted in a kaiser with homemade mayo and plenty of freshly ground pepper that was constructed by a now-defunct deli in Grand Central.  That, and a bag of cheese waffles, used to be the highlight of my weekly Friday journey from the city to Fairfield County.  However, I think the full bird is too much fuss to cook and too bland a meal around which to build a holiday.  It's telling when the stuffing is usually far superior, unless some lunatic puts water chestnuts in it.

When I was growing up with the Indians on the frontier, we would enjoy the annual Thanksgiving deer hunt and savor the fresh meat from our kills as our dinner.  [Although Grandma always had a half-dozen of Grandpa's chickens on reserve in case we came home without a trophy.]  It's best I not share that info with the more genteel folk with whom I spend my current days, though.

The cousins with our Thanksgiving entree

In addition to our traditional fish tacos, we've also enjoyed steamed lobster and lobster pie a few times over the years, especially on those lucky occasions when we've been able to spend a couple of days on the shoreline.  Last year, having just returned from Australia, we brought with us the recipe for the single most glorious sandwich ever invented.  My only regret is that one cannot buy either Carlton Draught or Victoria Bitter in the United States, as those two beers complement it perfectly.  [Foster's is not Australian beer; it's canned in Pittsburgh.]

Here's the recipe, and be prepared to open your mind to new gastronomic possibilities.  

Behold, Crocodile Bob's Aussie Works Burger:

Ingredients [serves four]:

1 pound ground beef 

1 large onion, sliced 

4 eggs 

4 slices Canadian bacon 

4 pineapple rings 

4 slices Cheddar cheese 

1 (8.25 ounce) can sliced beets, drained 

4 slices tomato 

4 lettuce leaves 

4 Kaiser rolls, split 

ketchup (optional) 

yellow mustard (optional) 

dill pickle relish (optional) 

mayonnaise (optional) 

Directions:

Preheat an outdoor grill for high heat.

When the grill is ready, lightly oil the grilling surface. 

Form the ground beef into four patties, and grill for 5 minutes per side, or until cooked through.

Meanwhile, melt butter in a large skillet over medium heat. 

Add onions, and fry until soft. 

Remove the onions from the skillet, and crack the eggs in the same skillet over medium heat. 

Cook until the yolks are solid, turning over once. 

Remove eggs, and set aside. 

Place the Canadian bacon in the same skillet, and fry until toasted. 

Remove the bacon, and turn the heat to high. 

Quickly fry the pineapple rings in the bacon drippings just until browned on each side.

Assembly:

Set bottom of kaiser roll on a plate,

1. top with burger, 

2. a slice of cheese, 

3. a slice of Canadian bacon, 

4. one fried egg, 

5. fried onions, 

6. a slice of beet, 

7. a slice of pineapple, 

8. a slice of tomato, 

9. and a leaf of lettuce.  

Serve to those shocked with wonder.

Since this year my wife and I are on our own for Thanksgiving, a first in our marriage, we're going to spend the day digesting this 920 calorie delight by raking some leaves and watching any team but the Cleveland Browns play football.

In addition to the traditional annual viewing of Endless Summer, we may re-watch the first season of the wonderful Australian TV show, "Rake".

The staff of The Coracle will take tomorrow off.  A Friday profile will be posted.  It's a corker.

My Former Favorite Thanksgiving Recipe [This Year's Favorite Will Be Revealed Tomorrow]

Since people ask me what we do for Thanksgiving [I know you're just being polite, but be careful what you ask for], there is a particular dish that I like to prepare to either delight or horrify those with whom we share the holiday. [If you're looking for a turkey recipe, you've come to the wrong place. We never eat turkey at Thanksgiving. What are we, a buncha Congregationalists?] The recipe and preparation instructions follow:

Surf City Curbside Fish Tacos

Ingredients:

1 lb of fresh swordfish steak
Salt and pepper
Olive oil
1 doz corn tortillas
Vegetable oil or butter (optional, depending on how you heat your tortillas)
Lime Mango sauce [see instructions]
1 ripe Avocado
Cabbage or iceberg lettuce
Cider vinegar
Salt

Prepare the sauce. This can be done either the simple or the complex way. The simple way is as follows:

1. Go to Stop and Shop
2. Buy some lime mango sauce in aisle 6

You may use it as a marinade for the fish and then, with the addition of some sour cream, use the remainder as the sauce for the finished dish. Naturally, don't use the sauce in which the fish has been marinating for the presentation sauce. At least, that's what Jenni always tells me. What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

The more complex way is to do the following:

Place two ripe, peeled and pitted mangoes and some lime juice [two limes or equivalent] into a food processor and blend until pureed. If the sauce is too thick, add a tablespoon or two of cold water. Stir in one diced jalapeno with seeds and skin removed [unless you like four-alarm sauce, like I do, in which case toss the seeds and skin into the whole shebang] and there you go. Save it until taco construction.

Prepare the cabbage and avocado. Thinly slice the cabbage and put it in a small serving bowl, sprinkle it with cider vinegar (about a tablespoon) and salt (about a teaspoon). Mix in the vinegar and salt. Peel the avocado and remove seed. Chop and reserve for later.

Heat the tortillas. There are two ways of doing this.

1. Simply heat them in the microwave for 20-25 seconds on high heat, on top of a napkin or paper towel to absorb the moisture that is released.

2. Or heat a cast iron skillet to medium heat. Add a teaspoon of oil to the pan or spread a half a teaspoon of butter on one side of one tortilla. Place tortilla in the pan (butter side down if you are using butter). As the tortilla sizzles, flip the tortilla with a spatula so that the other side gets some of the oil or butter from the pan. Continue to flip every 10-30 seconds until the tortillas begins to develop air pockets, after about a minute. You can always skip the butter or oil.

Remove the tortilla from the pan and place it folded on a plate. If the pan is large enough you can prepare two or more tortillas at once. Continue until all the tortillas (estimate 3 per person) are cooked. Set aside.

Cook the fish. Soak the fish fillets in cold water for at least one minute. Pat dry with a paper towel. Heat a large stick-free skillet to medium high heat. Add a couple of teaspoons of olive oil to the skillet. Place fish on skillet. Cooking time depends on the thickness of the fillets. A thin fillet may take only one minute on each side to cook. A thicker fillet may take a couple of minutes. Fish should be still barely translucent when cooked. Break off a piece and test if you are not sure, or give it to your cat and see what he does with it. Do not overcook the fish. When done, remove the fish from the pan to a separate plate. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste.

Place the plate of tortillas, fish, the sauce, cabbage, and avocados on the table and let everyone assemble their own. You go to a separate room where it's quiet and watch a football game. Preferably, Ohio State, since Princeton's season is over.  Or maybe stream Endless Summer and look at photos from Hawaii, Fiji, and Australia.

Time to Re-Institute Tar and Feathers

Pennsylvania: Couple Sues Over Police “Drug” Raid That Mistook Hibiscus for Marijuana

Anyone who mistakes hibiscus for marijuana is custodial.

No One is Above Sin, Even If He or She Agrees With Our Politics or Reflects Our World View

For Every Woodstock, There's an Altamont

And here's a haunting fact.  The  murderous rampage that took seven lives at the homes of actress Sharon Tate and director Roman Polanski, himself back in the news for his own repellent activities, and then supermarket exec Leno LaBianca and his wife occurred in August 1969 --  48 years from today, but only 24 years from the liberation of Auschwitz. It was considerably closer to Nazi times than to ours.

Perhaps humanity had not learned because the Manson murders were their own mini-Holocaust, a death cult spawned at the Spahn Ranch. That it all began at an abandoned movie set was eerily appropriate for L.A.  It also happened at a time when this city was reaching its supposed cultural zenith.  Everyone wanted to come here.  The Mamas and the Papas were singing "California Dreamin'."  The Beach Boys were boosting the superiority of "California Girls." The surf was up.  The cinema was the thing to do.  You too could be the next Billy Wilder or John Huston.  What could go wrong?
Well, a lot.

In the midst of surfers, flower children, and SoCa gear heads in Huntington Beach, Charlie Manson would perform at a small club on Main Street.  Such was, and is, the California experience, with darkness visible.

This is Why I Preferred Being a Print Reporter [That, and I Have a Face for Radio]

We All Have That Friend Who Has to Make Faces Whenever Someone Takes Out a Camera

An Obituary of Note

Radio DJ Helen Borgers, L.A.'s longtime voice of jazz, dies at 60

I would always listen to Helen when on a West Coast surf adventure.  As we are of the same generation and came to jazz the same way, through the study of literature, I appreciated our shared understanding of the interpenetrating experience of the most American of music.

When radio stations began to stream on the Internet, and KJAZZ 88.1 became one of them, I couldn't have been more delighted to be able to listen to Helen whenever I wanted and wherever I was.  It was truly a treat.

When she was laid off by the station over the summer, a heavy blow to jazz fans, as difficult as it was not to hear her show during the week, it was tempered by knowing she would turn up somewhere and be streamed again.  Now, this heavier blow has been leveled.

The Joy That is a Small Town Newspaper's Police Report

A concerned Kalispell resident reported seeing a dog that “sits weird” in their neighborhood.

An Existentialist View of the Book of Revelation

"Our world does not need lukewarm souls, it needs hot hearts." - Albert Camus

Jack Good

Rock ’n’ roll, if it is anything, is pure joy in sound.

Except as represented in Hollywood dross, there really is no singular rock and roll type.  Rockers come from all over the country, all over the world.  I've known rockers who read Rimbaud between performances, and others who were...well, I believe the scientific term is "pre-verbal".  I've known those who made their way to the stage through blues bands, jazz bands, garage bands, country bands, and church choirs.  I've known, and built a guitar for, a rockabilly singer from Australia, a metal head from Brazil, and a ye-ye girl from France.

They have different body types, different accents, different styles.  Some have been married forever; other have a more open regard for the institution.  Some will never, ever be able to turn down a drink, a syringe, or some pills [often all at the same time], others will not even permit a beer in their studio.  I once sat backstage with the bassist of a group for whom we were opening and discussed Beat poetry while his drummer sat in a dark corner and injected himself with heroin.

So, it really should not be a surprise that the fellow who brought the psychedelic world of rock to American living rooms was a middle-aged, bespectacled, umbrella-wielding Oxbridge Englishman in a proper suit.

Jack Good was born in London in 1931.  He graduated from Balliol College of Oxford University where he participated in the theatre community.  This lead to his being hired by the BBC where, by 1957, he had become a producer and was given an extraordinary responsibility.  While the practice in the early days of BBC television was to suspend broadcasting from 6pm to 7pm, ostensibly so that parents could settle their children for the evening, Good thought it an apt time to offer a youth-oriented music show.

Good had been to the States and had seen Dick Clark's American Bandstand and, although he enjoyed the music, found the production too staid and controlled given the style of the music.  Seeking to avoid that in the BBC's version, he found a disk jockey more frenetic than Clark, cleared the sound stage of any sets or props, and filled it with the bands, the audience, and the dancers.

At 6:05pm on February 16, 1957, with the words, "It's time to jive on the old six five with our band, Don Lang and the Frantic Five", the Six Five Special had its debut.  It was nothing like American Bandstand as it was live, largely un-rehearsed, and filled with a mad energy.  That really could have been a description of Good, too.

While intended to fill the broadcasting schedule for a month or so, the Six Five Special was popular enough to be given an open-ended contract, eventually staying on the air for a year-and-a-half.  It probably would have stayed on indefinitely, but the BBC managed to alienate Good by altering his vision of the show and reducing the amount of music.  They also added an educational portion and the football [that is, soccer] scores.  Without Good's vision, the show began to fail and surrendered by the end of 1958.

By that time he had left the BBC for its rival, ITV.  His new bosses noted the possibilities of the Six Five Special and wanted to Good to re-create it for their schedule, and in accordance with his un-diluted vision.  On September 13, 1958, Oh, Boy! premiered with all of the recognizable Good features: open sets, popular music, something resembling dancing, and the adrenaline that comes from an absence of rehearsal.

In turn, Oh, Boy! was succeeded by Good's Boy Meets Girls, another incarnation of the same idea.  By this time, Good's style was being copied by both the BBC and European television studios.  Realizing that the United States was a vast market waiting for something more vivid than Dick Clark's bland product, using his own money, Good produced a pilot episode of an Americanized version of the shows he had been producing in the United Kingdom.  It was rejected by everyone to whom he brought it.  With that, Good returned to England to work on stage production and as an actor in a couple of films.

For the 1964-65 season, ABC-TV was hungry for something that would appeal to the growing youth market and began to review some of the rejected pilots.  When they came across Good's, they offered to purchase his pilot but staff it with their own producer.  When Good promised to have The Beatles on the first broadcast if he were given the role of producer and carte blanch to shape the show, the deal was finalized.

On September 16, 1964, Shindig! was aired. For those at least my age, the show altered our understanding of popular music and captured, as did nothing else at that time, the raw energy of the music.  Shindig! was frenetically filled with performances, dancers, an appreciative audience and occasional, and blissfully brief, interviews with the artists.  Consider this opening medley and the range of music styles represented:

 


With Shindig!, the so-called British Invasion began, through which Jack Good served as an able curator. Among all of the "one hit wonders" who claimed their fifteen minutes on ABC's stage, there were also groups that not only rose to stardom and fame, but, at least in one spectacular case, are still performing.

Good knew, as few did in the U.S., that it was the blues musicians of the American south who most inspired the music of the British rockers. This was why, against the objections of a few at ABC, he demanded that black musicians appear on the show.  With this willingness to de-segregate pop music on television, and the promise that their idol would appear with them, The Rolling Stones appeared on Shindig! with Howlin' Wolf, the obscure bluesman whom they idolized and who, at the age of 55 and after four decades of performance, became an "overnight" sensation.

 


As with the BBC, the executives at ABC couldn't help but continually interfere in what was a successful product, and Good, again, left the production. As with the Six Five Special, without Good it ultimately failed. Shindig! was replaced by Batman in the fall of 1966.

Without question, it is Good's vision that determined the look, the sound, and the influences of rock music; an impact that would continue for the remainder of the decade, if not the century. This is why his name should be as well known by those of us who enjoyed the music of the era as are the names of the successful musicians.  Certainly, if for only presenting as many black artists as white, he should be as well-known as Dick Clark.

Good would return to the U.K. and produce musical theatre, occasional documentaries, and even act from time to time. Eventually, he converted to the Church of Rome and spent the remainder of his life in Oxford, selling his religious-themed paintings and recounting the great stories of his days with the rockers to anyone willing to sit with him. He would die at the age of 86 just a couple of months ago.

Upon his death, Good's assistant producer, among the other memories he shared, such as Good pinning "I Love Shindig!" buttons to the cardboard cut-outs of Lawrence Welk that adorned the ABC studio lobby, said that he was hopeful that his former boss had achieved his singular realization of the eternal: “His idea of heaven was Jerry Lee or Cliff Richard or Elvis giving it 100 percent.”

Yeah, he's not the only one.  Thanks, Jack; and thanks for making Howlin' Wolf known, too.  Oh, and those Stones guys.

Ah, Australia

Man charged after alleged boomerang assault - Sydney City

I should note that this didn't happen in The Outback, but in the middle of downtown Sydney in the shadow of two cathedrals, a number of department stores and shops, the Westin and Marriot hotels, and what was my residence.

Here's a street view:

Good News for My Sister

WSJ: Google, Shmoogle. Reference Librarians Are Busier Than Ever

Codicil: Only If They Plan on Working for NBC News

NBC News: Science proves kids are bad for Earth. Morality suggests we stop having them.

"Morality".  Good one.

The Episcopal Church Started Doing This Over a Quarter Century Ago, So I'm Glad the People Who Make Our Laws are Getting With the Program

New Sexual Harassment and Discrimination Training for Congress as Lawmakers Accuse Colleagues

Now's a Good Time to Clean House, NYT; Even If It is a Member of Your Politcal Party

Washington Post: What are we going to do about Creepy Uncle Joe Biden?

U.K. Telegraph:  'Creepy Veep' Joe Biden 'nuzzles' wife of colleague and claims he is friends with lots of Somali cab drivers

Washington Examiner:  Joe Biden's woman-touching habit

TPM: Why Does Creepy Uncle Joe Biden Get A Pass?

The New York Times reaction?  This:

In the past 24 hours, a new alt-right fake news meme had emerged of Biden as predator. How will @twitter handle? https://t.co/AfOCnJLu0D

— Nicole Perlroth (@nicoleperlroth) November 14, 2017

The Washington Post, et al, is now "fake news" when they simply show photos of reality?  C'mon, NYT.  If you're really invested in the political party you support in your pages, you will realize that enabling this school of behavior just to get or keep your party in power is no longer operable.  If the DNC, of which The Episcopal Church is an apparent extension, is serious about improving the lives of women in the workplace, this can no longer be ignored or considered "cute".

Of course, I've heard nary a word from any of my ordained colleagues about the behavior of Democrats and party fund-raisers ["bundlers", in the ugly term that's now in vogue] in this regard, even in light of the staggering change in our societal perspective in the last few weeks.  In fact, all I recall from feminist theologians about such behavior a couple of decades ago was some tortured defense of Bill Clinton's "issues".

It's safe to be brave, now, colleagues.  Go be heroes.

Oh, yeah.  Here they go.

NYT: I Believe Juanita

Yeah, Lucky

Luckily we still have media, academia, and the entertainment industry to serve as our moral beacons

— David Burge (@iowahawkblog) November 14, 2017

It's Convention Weekend, So We'll Hear Myriad Versions of This

Scholars: ‘Love Your Enemies’ Does Not Include People You Disagree With Politically

The Post-Christian Age Sure Has a Lot of Secular Moral Leaders; Pity They're Usually Full of It

Arianna Huffington Ignored Sexual Misconduct at The Huffington Post

Tales from the Age of Intolerance

Augusta ed tech says school department discriminated against her for telling colleague ‘I will pray for you’

One Christian supporting another with a common expression while in the midst of a private conversation is an act worthy of administrative discipline?  This must be a school with no other problems whatsoever.

"Suddenly Seems?" It was Always Morally Indefensible.

Years of excusing Bill Clinton’s sexual misconduct suddenly seems morally indefensible, @greenfield64 writes https://t.co/NLIhpihgtH pic.twitter.com/ZPZynFqcXJ

— POLITICO (@politico) November 14, 2017

My Generation Has a Lot for Which to Answer

It makes me glad that I'm merely a microbe in the great parade of history, rather than one of the "elites".

The ruling generation in Hollywood is out of creative ideas mostly because it invested in political melodrama rather than human tragedy. It cannot make a Western, not just because Santa Monica’s young men long ago lost the ability to sound or act like Texans in 1880, but because its politics have no patience with the real world of noble people who are often doomed, or flawed individuals who are nevertheless defined by their best rather than worst traits, or well-meaning souls who can cause havoc, or courageous men who fight for bad causes. 

Archaeological News

Found: A Rare Carved Stone That Could Rewrite Art History

I Confess to Confusion

The unwritten rules have changed so fast in recent weeks that I'm not sure what's considered virtuous and correct and what isn't.  So, commentators, allow me to ask a couple of questions:

1.  Are we no longer tearing down statues?  I mean, an Episcopal parish in Virginia has gotten into it by taking away their George Washington plaque and, by the time the Episcopal Church thinks something is groovy, the trend has passed, so that's it for now, right?

2.  Have coffee-making machines now become politicized?  Really?  By the way, here's mine.  It was made from leftover copper tubing, so I guess it's Libertarian:

It cost about fifteen bucks and, maybe, an hour's labor.  You can buy it from Etsy for 65 bucks, if you want.

3.  So, a few months back, Vice President Pence was mocked, called a "sexist", etc. for meeting with women either in a place of business or, if in a restaurant, with his wife present.  What was particularly rich is that he was being mocked by Episcopal clergy who are supposed to do the same thing as part of their "safe church" training, but what the heck?

Anyway, given the sordid behavior of our self-appointed moral superiors of Hollywood and Washington D.C., are those who criticized Pence still so mocking, or do they think he may be on to something?  [Asked another way, would you rather your daughter work for a Hollywood producer or Pence?]

I'm Not Sure How Much It Matters, Given That Few of Them Can Actually Sing

‘Whisperpop’: why stars are choosing breathy intensity over vocal paint-stripping

Ah, Australia

Meter reader scared off by brown snake

Golf, Improved

Mongoose, cobra fight it out during golf tournament

I Appreciate That It's Trendy to Despair of the Current Administration,..

...but this former officer is all class and we're lucky to have him in the Defense Department:

Army Veteran Saw a 'Lone Man' at Arlington on Veterans Day — Who It Was Defines What It Means to Serve America

As muses an admiral in John Michener's The Bridges of Toko Ri, “Where do we get such men?"

Alternative Math | Short Film

A Pleasant Travelogue

ALICE’S OXFORD

More Tales of the Post-Christian Age

Also known as the "Age of Atomic Nihilism" or the "Neo-Marxist Age".

1. Flipping Off the President Doesn’t Make You a Hero

When you remove "respect the dignity of every human being" [it's in the Baptismal Covenant] from your repertoire of behavior, especially in such a public manner, all you do is help to make society less civil.

2. No-Shave November is Supposed to Be About Charity, Not Hipster Mustaches

Yes, confusing virtue-signalling actions with charitable giving has a checkered history.  Actually, it largely fails.  It's a much better use of one's charitable giving to donate to one's congregation.  That way, not only are you fully informed as to how the money is to be used, but you have some say in and control over it.

3. Really, when it comes to the ghastly interpersonal escapades of those in the power structure of Hollywood and Washington D.C., I could link to several pages of articles.  If I went back to the Clinton administration, that would take a whole weblog.

So, allow me to observe two things:
1. We may be seeing why human sexuality is enshrined in the sacrament of Holy Matrimony, with promises shared and in full view of a congregation of supporters, and
2.  It's a good thing for Hollywood no longer to serve as our moral and ethical superiors.  That was a tawdry attitude, anyway, and one that was un-deserved and self-assigned.

Here's Where Boomers Can Help

 Undoing the Dis-Education of Millennials

I teach in a law school. For several years now my students have been mostly Millennials. Contrary to stereotype, I have found that the vast majority of them want to learn. But true to stereotype, I increasingly find that most of them cannot think, don’t know very much, and are enslaved to their appetites and feelings. Their minds are held hostage in a prison fashioned by elite culture and their undergraduate professors.

This is Worth Reading

Washington Post: Mass shootings in gun-free nations

This Fellow Talks to People While Walking; He Published a Peer-Reviewed and Accepted Paper About It

This is in preparation of a doctoral degree, by the way.

Personally, I Have No Issue With This

Against Princeton

The tax on super-sized endowments is a good idea, and the rate of taxation should be significantly higher than the modest one proposed in the current tax bill. Cultural power has become concentrated in a narrower and narrower class of people, and the institutions that serve (and perpetuate) them have become arrogant and detached.

They're also generally anti-Christian, to boot.

I Used to Play Bass for the Sex Clams

I'm Flattered, But That's Okay

Up until now, NASA has never paid too much attention to Uranus – but now the space agency wants to take a good, long look.

The Best Thing About Small Town Newspapers? The Police Report.

5:46 p.m. A man was using foul language at church.

Sentences I Wish I'd Written When a Reporter

As deputies spoke with Protus, his eyes were red and glassy, and his speech was slurred. Law enforcement also detected the impurities of alcohol emanating from his person, the report said.

Richard Farina

“We mistake induction for generation." 

I gather with a group of men a couple of times a month.  They range in age from their late 20's to late 70's.  Although we're supposedly gathered for prayer and spiritual discussion, generally we speak about home improvement, trailering techniques, pickup truck liners, and cell phone plans.  Personally, I find this somewhat of a relief as most, if not all, of my conversations are about spirituality.  Not that I have a problem with that, but I also want to know other men's experiences in using the 2 inch ball hitch.

However, the other week we veered into spiritual territory as we were lamenting the absence of a role in contemporary mainstream Protestant Christianity for men.  I observed how the language of spirituality had changed, too, in recent decades, as we tend to value the feminine empathetic over the masculine pragmatic.  While both are necessary, it is increasingly difficult to convince men that churches are anything other than women's clubs.

We began to speak about the importance of men as spiritual role models, and it was then that the conversation became more interesting, especially as I recalled, with vividity, watching as a child my father pray in church.  As he had been raised a Methodist of the frontier tradition, he knelt on one knee with his forefinger knuckle pressed to his forehead.  I was maybe five-years-old at the time and imitated him to the best of my ability.  That moment of what's called mimetic identification determined much of my subsequent life, both professionally and personally.

In turn, those present spoke of how their fathers modeled spirituality for them and, as these are the most active men in the parish, how those early, often non-verbal, images remained.

Mimetic identification is common among the young, of course, as it is a normal part of human development.  During my years teaching in independent schools at the secondary level, I would note each class' understanding of what was and was not "cool", what language, attitudes, and postures would be mimicked and from whom they would imitate.  Honestly, I wish that I'd kept a list.

Naturally, we can also see mimetics at work in our cultural history, as artists and musicians all have heroes whose style, even down to their choice of apparel, cigarettes smoked, and apartment accouterments, are imitated.  Thus, Howlin' Wolf inspires Keith Richard; Muddy Waters inspires Jeff Beck, Soren Kierkegaard inspires Albert Camus, and so on.

In the late 1950's, Richard Farina, a Cuban-Irish college drop-out born in Brooklyn in 1937, showed up in Greenwich Village with a dulcimer and a slight repertoire of folk songs such as people had never heard before. Turns out he was also adept at writing, having had short stories and poems published while still a student at Cornell.  Being of an attractive and rakish nature, he hung out at many of the favored bars of the creative class, particularly the White Horse Tavern [where Dylan Thomas drank himself to death; Norman Mailer drank and punched people; Jim Morrison of The Doors drank too much, Jack Kerouac drank such a prodigious amount that he was banned from the property; and Delmore Schwartz, come to think of it, drank himself to death, too].  

There he met Tommy Makem, one of the founding members of The Irish Rovers, and folk singer Carolyn Hester, soon to be featured on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post.  These two new friends helped Farina get started as a performer and, as he became Hester's manager and husband, enough time to write publishable poetry.  They toured the United States and Europe together, eventually winding up back in New York at the recording studios of Columbia Records.  Here, as Hester was in need of a harmonica player for some of the tracks, Farina hired a young man from Minnesota to fill that role.  They would become good friends, with Farina serving as the young man's mimetic hero.

 

Farina began to explore the possibilities of folk music beyond simply performing the old tunes or re-visiting the music's classic themes.  He found that, if merged with the differentiated social concerns of the 1960's, folk music could have a role in the expanding consciousness of the era.  While songs were once about coal mines or natural disasters, now they could also explore racial inequality, the obtuse war in Vietnam, and the world-view of the post-WWII generation.

It's no wonder that Farina's harmonica-playing friend so idolized him.  So much, that the friend copied Farina's style, his method of composition, his walk, his manner of speech, and even his apparel.  Also, in homage to the former and famous habitue of The White Horse Tavern, the friend would change his name from Bob Zimmerman to Bob Dylan.

Farina's relationship would Carolyn Hester would end right at the time his relationship with Mimi Baez, Joan's sister, would begin.  Not long after his divorce from Hester, Farina would marry Baez and begin recording original works with his sister-in-law and her friends, including Pete Seeger.

Farina, Seeger, and Baez perform on TV

However, Farina was not limited solely to folk music and poetry printed in obscure journals.  In 1966, Random House published his novel, Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me, to critical success.  In fact, it is considered second only to Ken Kesey's One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest as the best representative of 1960's American literature.  As one critic mentioned to me, it is "The Great Hippie Novel". [It may be the only one, too, as the decade was not noted for its traditional forms of literature.]

The novel, based on The Odyssey, is a picaresque, a lightly plotted ramble through the protagonist's college experiences and his travels in the western U.S. and revolutionary Cuba.  It was recommended for a number of literary awards and has remained in print for over fifty years.  The younger critics of the era and many university students placed it on their shelves next to Jack Kerouac's On The Road, acknowledging the novel's link to the literature of the Beat Generation and that of the new counter-culture, the so-called "hippies".

I've often wondered what would have become of Farina as his talent matured.  Clearly, if indirectly through Dylan and the Baez sisters, he made his influence on folk music known; and, while I find it a bit sophomoric these days, there is enough artistic merit in Been Down So Long... that I can't help but see the emergence of a new voice that would have continued to develop and define a generational experience.

Farina would attend a book-signing at a store in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California a couple of days after its publication and, later in the day, a party celebrating both his new book and his wife's 21st birthday.  It was, according to an acquaintance who attended, one of the happiest occasions of the mid-sixties; one of those nights when it seemed as if the world had shifted into a better consciousness.

A rare quiet moment for Mimi and Farina

High hopes can be dashed by fate, unfortunately, or by the combination of ethanol, alcohol, and testosterone.  Hitching a ride on a friend's motorcycle, Farina was killed when the bike went off the road on a notoriously tricky corner while traveling at a ridiculously high rate of speed.  With that, the newest, most accomplished, and most hopeful voice of his generation, one who was equally talented in music, composition, poetry, and prose, came to be silenced.  Farina was 29-years-old.

While we know Dylan better than Farina and, come to think of it, Joan better than Mimi, we can experience something of Farina's talent through those other performers.  None of them, however, have ever shown such a trans-artisitc ability, and that's the pity in what was lost.

Richard Farina's recordings may still be found.  As was noted above, Been Down So Long... is still in print, although one does not know how much longer that will be the case since the novel is considered "triggering" to contemporary university students.  Despite their self-defined conviction that they are the most liberal, free-thinking generation ever to grace the planet, contemporary youth seem to be not much more than tedious "church ladies" imbued with the worst aspects of neo-Puritanism and the vague bouquet of totalitarianism.

In other words, they are the very people against whom Farina railed, and that's a marvelous irony.

Zeus! Apollo! At Ease.

John Hillerman, Higgins on 'Magnum, P.I.,' Dies at 84

Tun Tavern, Philadelphia

Almighty Father, whose command is over all and whose love never fails, make me aware of Thy presence and obedient to Thy will.  Keep me true to my best self, guarding me against dishonesty in purpose and deed and helping me to live so that I can face my fellow Marines, my loved ones, and Thee without shame or fear.  Protect my family.

Give me the will to do the work of a Marine and to accept my share of responsibilities with vigor and enthusiasm.  Grant me the courage to be proficient in my daily performance.  Keep me loyal and faithful to my superiors and to the duties my Country and the Marine Corps have entrusted to me.  Help me to wear my uniform with dignity, and let it remind me daily of the traditions which I must uphold.

If I am inclined to doubt, steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me courage to try again.

Guide me with the light of truth and grant me wisdom by which I may understand the answer to my prayer.